The Westcotes eBook

letters on a black ground. When it was fixed,
the artist descended to the road and gazed up admiringly
at his work. In the act of departing he turned,
and suddenly stood still again. His face was
toward the Bayfield gate. Dorothea could not tell
if he saw her, but he remained thus, motionless, for
almost a minute. Then he seemed to recollect
himself and marched off briskly down the road.
Early next morning she descended and read the inscription,
which ran: “Restaurant pour les Aspirants.”

She said nothing about it, and soon after breakfast
the board was removed.

CHAPTER II

THE ORANGE ROOM

Some weeks later, on a bright and frosty morning in
December, Dorothea rode into Axcester with her brothers.
She was a good horsewoman and showed to advantage
on horseback, when her slight figure took a grace
of movement which made amends for her face. To-day
the brisk air and a canter across the bridge at the
foot of the hill had brought roses to her cheeks,
and she looked almost pretty. General Rochambeau
happened to pass down the street as the three drew
rein before the Town House (so the Westcotes always
called the Bank-office), and, pausing to help her
dismount, paid her a very handsome compliment.

Dorothea knew, of course, that Frenchmen were lavish
of compliments, and had heard General Rochambeau pay
them where she felt sure they were not deserved.
Nevertheless she found this one pleasant—­she
had received so few—­and laughed happily.
It may have come from the freshness of the morning,
but to-day her spirit sat light within her and expectant
she could not say of what, yet it seemed that something
good was going to happen.

“I have a guess,” said the old General,
“that Miss Westcote and I are bound on the same
errand. Her’s cannot be to inspect dull
bonds and ledgers, bills of exchange or rates of interest.”

He jerked his head towards the house, and Dorothea
shook hers.

“I am going to ‘The Dogs,’ General.”

“Eh?” He scented the jest and chuckled.
“As you say, ‘to the dogs’ hein?
Messieurs, I beg you to observe and take warning that
your sister and I are going to the dogs together.”

He offered his arm to Dorothea. Her brothers
had dismounted and handed their horses over to the
ostler who waited by the porch daily to lead them
to the inn stables.

“I will stable Mercury myself,” said she,
addressing Endymion. She submitted her smallest
plans to him for approval.

“Do so,” he answered. “After
running through my letters, I will step down to the
Orange Room and join you. I entrust her to you,
General—­ the more confidently because you
cannot take her far.”

He laughed and followed Narcissus through the porch.
Dorothea saw the old General wince. She slipped
an arm through Mercury’s bridle-rein and picked
up her skirt; the other arm she laid in her companion’s.